


The Heist

by itzteegan



Series: Kinktober 2019 [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: AO3 FB Challenge, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Mildly Dubious Consent, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 20:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzteegan/pseuds/itzteegan
Summary: When Brynjolf takes Siggy out on a job before running it by Delvin, they end up in a spot of trouble. Siggy will never trust him with recon work ever again.





	The Heist

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 4: Fuck or Die

“Are you sure about this lead, Bryn?”

“As sure as I can ever be, lass.”

_That’s not that reassuring_, but I kept that thought to myself. Brynjolf was a great public face for the Thieves Guild, no doubt about that, but his other skills had gotten a bit … rusty, with time. Not that I would ever say so to his face, but I _was_ the one who took care of him and Karliah during Irkngthand when they were stumbling around, alerting every damn Falmer in the place to the fact that we were there. When it came to his specialised job, no one did it better. But when it came to things outside of his purview – even things he had done before – he wasn’t quite as competent. Which was why, when he recruited me, the job was just a simple lock picking and reverse pickpocketing assignment. It wasn’t just an entry job to test out new recruits, it involved skills he hadn’t utilised in far too long to be able to perform without being caught.

Normally, Delvin and Vex disseminated information, parsing and checking and double checking it before they passed it on to us, but Brynjolf was insistent that this was just a simple job that we could handle all on our own without backup. “I promise, it’s _fine_,” he tried to assure. “The old mage lived alone, no family to speak of.”

“And you know he’s dead and not just reclusive because …?”

He winked. “A little bird told me.”

I rolled my eyes. Hopefully said little bird was reliable, or else we could be walking into a trap with a very pissed off old mage ready to kill us on sight.

It was well into the evening as we crept up toward the isolated cabin, situated just north-west of Whiterun. It sat just within the safe zone from Labyrinthian, close enough to maintain its distance from civilisation and yet far enough away that the frost trolls wouldn’t come knocking, unwilling to come so far out of their nesting grounds. The little cabin seemed nice and neat enough, if a bit on the austere side, and I wondered just what kind of lead Bryn had gotten on its contents. Its outside was utterly plain and otherwise unremarkable, though knowing that its owner – or, former owner, according to the lead – was an old mage, who knew what he might have holed up in there, both valuable and dangerous.

It was that note of danger that still gave me pause.

But Bryn was confident as he crept up to the door, pulling out his lock picks and setting to work while I kept watch, just to ensure nobody was keeping an eye on the little house, ready to spring when someone like us tried to take advantage of a situation. It seemed, however, that there was nothing of that sort going on, as the only sounds I picked up was the breeze rustling the bushes, the howl of a wolf in the distance, and the click of the lockpick as Bryn worked on the door. Aside from a little fox scurrying across the fields, there was no other movement, and I wasn’t sure if that made me more or less nervous as my partner in crime unlocked the door for us and slid it open.

The place actually didn’t smell half as bad as I’d been anticipating. When you hear the word “hermit” with few other descriptors, it can be hard to imagine the situation you’re about to walk into. The place could be immaculate, a complete trash heap, or something in between, though most of my thoughts had been leaning toward trash heap. The place was fairly clean, however, if a bit cluttered as many mage spaces tended to be. Books and papers strewn with notes scribbled with bits of information to remember later. Alchemy ingredients stashed, some containers empty, others overflowing. I made a mental note to check them for any rare or particularly valuable ingredients when we were leaving, but what we were after was something far more interesting than what I could find at a standard alchemist’s shop.

What also didn’t escape my notice was the bloodstains on the floor, a few small pools near the alchemy table that had long since dried. Cocking an eyebrow, I motioned toward it, but Bryn just smirked. It seemed that whatever had befallen the old mage, it had not been natural, and somehow his fate had been passed along to Brynjolf. I wondered who had done him in … a random bandit or thief wouldn’t have been able to stand against an experienced mage like that, and more so they wouldn’t have had the connections that would have passed the info along. Certainly, if they’d somehow been able to overpower the old geezer, they would have grabbed anything of value and left the body to rot. Instead, the body was gone, but it was plain to see that nothing else was disturbed in the cabin. This spoke of a professionalism that could only be the Dark Brotherhood. While it was unknown who might want to off an old mage hermit, that was none of our business, and it explained the connection … Delvin had ties to the Brotherhood, and when the information was passed along, Bryn had likely either intercepted or heard of it. Of course, if Delvin _had_ the information himself, it only made me more suspicious that we didn’t pick up anything from him on the way out. The warning bells were starting to sound in my head, but we were already here and Bryn was looking like a kid in a candy store, so I figured fuck it … _In for a penny, in for a pound, after all_ …

The downstairs, while cluttered, seemed bereft of anything truly valuable, and so we crept up the stairs, keeping a sharp eye out for any traps that might be hiding in wait for people exactly like us. We were fairly experienced thieves, after all, runes and tripwires and such didn’t tend to escape our notice as we were constantly on the lookout for them. There didn’t seem to be any such precautions, however, which made me even more nervous as Bryn and I started poking around his things. There were some rare books that my contact at the College of Winterhold might be interested in, some soul gems that looked filled and would fetch a nice enough price. I even spotted some gems on a table, but so far there wasn’t anything that really stood out that would have made this whole trip truly worth it. Nothing we’d uncovered was anything more than what we might find in almost any moderately wealthy home in Skyrim.

Until we hit the potion stash, that is.

I could only immediately identify a few of them, and they were quite basic health and magicka potions. The rest, however, seemed specialised and possibly even personally created and refined by the cabin’s former inhabitant. Brynjolf seemed excited as he pointed out the quantities and variety. “See? I told you there’d be something worthwhile!”

Chuckling, I had to cede at least a little bit, though I pointed out, “We’ll have to get them professionally appraised, though, I have no idea what most of these are.”

“A simple task, with our connections. And I’ll bet you anything they’re worth a handsome sum to the right buyer.”

“Oh? And just what are we betting, here?” I asked playfully, standing up as we gathered the bottles and prepared to hunt down a chest or a box or something more sturdy to put them in than just the leather bags we’d brought, when one of the bottles clattered to the floor, one of the smallest vials out of all of them. Quickly, we set down our finds on the nearest table, stooping to see if it was damaged or salvageable, and it was only then that we found that the glass was cracked, and out of it was seeping some sort of purple mist. I had no idea what it might be, if it was poison or what, but it quickly filled the room, choking both of us as we staggered to our feet. Grabbing his arm, I tried pulling Bryn back toward the stairs, but I felt like I was stuck in a murky swamp with mud and ropey plants pulling me down into the mire. Both of us fell to our knees in a coughing fit, trying to crawl toward the stairs to at least get a little more fresh air on the lower level, but darkness closed in around me before I even reached the first one.

+

Waking up, everything felt hazy and a bit off, almost like I’d been drinking except there was no taste of ale or mead or wine on my tongue. As I raised my head, the world felt like it was about to tilt, and I grasped the floorboards underneath me as much as I could, struggling to remember what happened. The room I was in didn’t look familiar to me, and as I looked around I had to blink hard and slow just to try to pull things into focus. Bookshelves, chests, a few dressers of varying sizes … and Brynjolf passed out beside me. Weren’t we on a job? What were we doing on the floor? Sitting up, I tried to asses myself and my surroundings, but it felt like I was hitting a brick wall, my body in turmoil until I spotted the cracked vial and then I remembered … the gas, trying to escape, passing out … but what had we been given? I hoped it wasn’t anything poisonous as my gut churned and I swallowed hard, reaching over to try to shake Brynjolf awake. As my fingers grasped his leather covered muscled arm, a warmth started to spread through my body, and whether it was a coincidence or some sort of after affect, I didn’t know. But what I did know is that as he came to, that warmth had already started to settle in a very specific part of my body, leaving me feeling flushed and flustered as I tried to resist the urge to rub my legs together.

“What happened, lass?” Brynjolf slurred, attempting to sit up as the room spun around him.

“I don’t know, I feel …” I struggled to put words together in a way that did _not_ indicate the pooling heat in my pelvis, “… strange. I don’t know what we were dosed with. I hope it’s not poison, we’re thieves not alchemists.”

He snorted, but when he looked over at me, I saw his pupils were blown wide. The air somehow felt thin, like I couldn’t take in a breath good enough, and the more I tried not to breathe heavy the more I failed. Reaching over to me, he tucked an errant hair behind my ear as he asked, “Siggy? Are you alright?”

My throat felt thick as I swallowed and shook my head. “No.”

Scooting closer to me, the smell of his leather armour filled my nostrils and almost made me dizzy. My senses were on fire, like a door had been thrown open and as a result they were far more sensitive than normal. The whole room seemed to _vibrate_ and I both felt and heard the individual grooves as my hands scraped over the wood floor when I adjusted my stance. My heart pounded so loudly, surely Bryn himself could hear it, but he was breathing heavily as well, so perhaps he couldn’t after all. It seemed that it was affecting us both, and when I happened to glance downward, I saw that it was affecting us in similar was as there was an unmistakable bulge in his pants. A wave of lust encompassed me, emboldened me to lean forward and press my lips against his, feeling the soft lips and the rough beard alike. “Siggy?” was the questioning response, but it was all but lost as he met the kiss, unable to hold back from the feelings coursing through our veins. My skin felt heated, like I’d spent the afternoon lying in the sun, and with barely a thought I moved to loosen the ties and buckles on my armour, tossing them aside just as Brynjolf started to do the same. If I’d had enough sense in me at the moment, I would have stopped and questioned why I was feeling the way I was and why we were reacting this way after exposure to an unknown potion, but most of my blood seemed to be rushing _away_ from my brain and toward other parts of my body, and so neither of us seemed to give it a second thought. Instead, the more layers that were discarded, the closer we shifted together until all it took was one push and I was straddling Bryn.

In that brief moment, seeing him lying beneath me, I had a moment where I wondered in a haze if this was even real at all. But the warm skin against mine brought me back to where my instincts wanted to lead me as Bryn rolled his hips, pushing his bulge against me, both teasing and encouraging me to continue.

And so I did.

Reaching down, I lined us up and immediately started to lower myself, both of us moaning at the sensation. I was dripping wet even though we’d done little more than kiss, and for that I had a brief moment of gratitude as his length and girth were not insignificant. Bryn’s hands rested momentarily on my hips before they wandered up my body, lightly calloused fingers grazing my nipples and sending a shock of arousal straight through me. It was so strange, how hypersensitive I felt. Normally breast play left me with only the beginnings of a dull smoulder, as far as how arousing it was, but this time it was like a bright spark lit me aflame. Bryn seemed to pick up on it, if his devious smile was any indication, and he repeated the action as I rolled my hips. I didn’t even try to consciously set a pace, my body just seemed to move of its own accord, but it was quite the lovely accord and I certainly didn’t feel like fighting it. I just let it happen, let the sensations wash over me as I threw my head back, revelling in the ocean of pleasure that carried me adrift.

Suddenly, I was jolted upwards, Bryn surging underneath me, slipping his legs under him and pushing us both up and pinning me against a nearby wall. How he was able to do all of that in one seamless motion, I would likely puzzle over for a long time yet, but I wouldn’t start right away as all I could think about and focus on was the way his length felt inside of me, hitting every sensitive spot I had, pleasure abnormally heightened. I was only just beginning to wonder if that dropped potion had anything to do with it, but I was still in the throes of pleasure and didn’t at all care about the exact circumstances of how we got to it, all I cared was that he _didn’t stop moving_. Mewling pitifully, I clawed at his shoulders, earning myself a shudder and a sharp thrust as repayment.

It was hard to keep track of much of anything through the haze, and eventually everything seemed to blend together, especially after that first orgasm. I was pretty sure I had others, pretty sure Bryn did, too. But when we finally stumbled out of that cabin almost a full day after we entered, it was hard to recall an exact set of events. We were both blissed out, fucked hard and satisfied, but the more time between us and the deed in question, the harder it was to remember it all. When we finally got back to Riften, it was just one big smear in my memory, and while I certainly didn’t regret it, I regretted that I couldn’t remember hardly any of it clearly.

As we slunk down into the Ragged Flagon, Delvin accosted us almost immediately. “Hey, got a lead on a target up in Whiterun Hold.”

“Oh?” I asked, eyebrow arching, wondering what the target was.

Delvin nodded. “Seems an old mage up there was kidnapping young girls left and right, and some family members took exception to it and sent the Dark Brotherhood after him. He was a master alchemist, should have some rare potions that’ll sell well.” I almost wanted to interrupt him to inform him that we’d already hit it, but a small voice silenced me just long enough to see what Delvin had to say about it. As he took a swig out of a flagon, he cautioned, “Just be careful … he was known to use potions on his targets. If you go, don’t go alone, there’s one in particular that … well, let’s just say, if you don’t have someone to fuck, you’ll go mad. Probably die. The old bastard used that to his advantage …”

I hoped my face didn’t look as heated as it felt as I shot a quick glance over at Brynjolf. So _that’s_ what that damn potion was, why we reacted to it the way we had. I wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or relieved that our wanton debauchery had been artificially kickstarted, but at least we knew, I supposed … I cleared my throat as I offered, “Thanks, Delvin, we’ll look into it.”

With the way his eyes flicked between Bryn and I, it was hard to imagine that much got past him. They narrowed ever so slightly and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but he seemingly thought better and just shook his head. “Right, boss.”

After Bryn and I withdrew to private quarters, I punched him in the arm. “Aye!” he exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder. “Now what was that for, lass?”

“That’s the last damn time I follow one of your leads.”

He chuckled as he shrugged. “Hey, at least we had a good time?”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, having nothing more to say as he scooped me in his arms and bestowed an apologetic kiss on my lips. Although I was annoyed, it was hard to stay mad at him. But I did need to set the ground rule of, “Next time, we run a job through Delvin _first_.”

That equal parts adorable and frustrating smile tugged at his lips as he relented. “As you wish, lass.”


End file.
